And They Call Me...
by Rabbit
Summary: ::not finished::Updated: ch3 12-31-01! It was a dark and stormy night... don't the best things start that way?
1.

****

And They Call Me...

__

And they call me  
happy-go-lucky  
They don't know my heart is dyin' inside  
This smiles a frown turned upside down  
I do my happy-go-lucky so well  
I'm even foolin' myself

****

Chapter 1:

The night was fitful with a thunderstorm. Kloppman was just about to lock the doors of the Manhattan Newsboy Lodging House when a figure burst into the foyer, and directly into his arms. Startled, he held the creature out at arm's length, eyeing it curiously. It was a forlorn looking thing, with a dirty-smudged face, streaked with raindrops, and was drenched from head to toe. He didn't know who in their right mind would be out on such a night. "Who're you? An' what're ya doin' out on such a God-awful night?"

"Iwannabeanewsie," the creature mumbled quickly.

"Pardon?"

"I wanna be a newsie."

Now he was truly baffled. "Ya wanna be a newsie..." he repeated slowly. "Well, kid, couldn'cha have waited until the mornin'?"

"Mornin's too far away."

Kloppman laughed at the eager adolescent before him. He had never met someone so enthusiastic at the thought of selling newspapers in sleet, rain, and the extremes of winter and summer. "Well, now, I'm guessin' ya wanna stay here in the Lodgin' House t'night?" When the kid nodded, he pursed his lips. "Well, let me take a look at ya..." He sized the youngster up and determined from the observation that he was a runaway. "Any dry clothes wit' ya?" When he was given a negative response, he asked, "Any money for your stay?"

The boy's face paled beneath the layer of dirt. "Only a dime, sir."

He scratched his grizzled chin thoughtfully. With a hefty sigh, he said, "Tell ya what. You keep that dime an' pay me after ya sell your newspapers tomorrow."

Relief crossed his face and he nodded. "Thank ya... Thank ya so much."

Kloppman cracked a small grin. "Just don't tell any of the other boys. Come along, we'll get ya some dry clothes." He led the kid into the bunkroom and roused one of the newsboys. "Hey, Jack. Get up."

The one called Jack groaned and rolled onto his stomach, burying his face deeper into his flat, shapeless pillow. "It's still dark out, Kloppman. Ain't no one out sellin' papes this early."

"I need your help. Come on, get outta bed."

With a stifled yawn, Jack rolled- or fell, actually- out of bed and squinted at the figure beside the man as he drowsily rose to his feet. "What's goin' on?"

Jerking his thumb to the forlorn creature, he replied, "This kid wants t' be a newsie, Jack. Now, while it's a bit useless startin' him out right at the moment, you're better at sizin' folks for clothes than I am, and this kid needs somethin' dry to sleep in. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a lodgin' house to lock up." And then he turned, and left Jack with the newsboy recruit.

Jack buried his fingers into his askew hair, scratching his scalp. "Well," he began after a long pause, "ya look about Mush's build. I don't think he'll mind if ya borrow some of 'is clothes. They may be a little big, seein's how you's on the short side." Motioning for the newcomer to follow him, he headed over to another bunk, scrounged through another boy's belongings, and handed a pair of pants and a shirt to the kid. "What possessed ya t' come out here so late?" he asked, leading the way to the washroom.

"Same thing that possessed God t' create th' Earth: I jus' wanted to."

He motioned for the smart-mouth to enter and change. Folding his arms over his chest, he considered what he'd have to do to work with this kid. He already had an attitude... not necessarily a good thing when directed at him, but definitely something he needed to have to survive. When the kid returned, garbed in Mush's spare clothes, he stared at him... or her, to be more precise. "You's a girl?!"

"Wow, what a discov'ry. Ya should win a Nobel Prize for that one."

He blatantly took in the girl's curvy figure from her head to her feet. He was unsure how he hadn't noticed it before because now it was so blatantly obvious. "Wait a minute, girls can't be newsies," he managed to stutter, finally looking up at her face.

She cocked an eyebrow, and brushed past him, slamming into his shoulder as she went. "Yeah? Well who went an' made _you_ king of th' world?"

"Well... I...no one but-"

"Exactly. Anyway, ya ever been t' Harlem? Girl newsies there. An' th' Bronx has 'em too."

"Then why ain't ya in one of _their_ lodgin' houses?"

"'Cause I jus' _happen_ t' be in this one. Gotta problem wit' that?"

Jack scratched his head, unaccustomed to being outsmarted by a girl. "What'cher name?"

Tilting her head to the side, she studied him long and hard through the darkness of the room before replying, "They call me Happy-Go-Lucky... if you's nice, ya can just call me Happy."

"Happy?"

She shrugged, and turned towards the bunkroom. "Well, Jack, where do I sleep?"

After a moments thought, he realized there weren't any available bunks that he was aware of. '_Damn Kloppman._' "Well, ya can use my bunk."

She snorted. "Hey, fella, my name may be Happy, but I ain't _stupid_."

He rolled his eyes. "I didn't mean _wit'_ me. Jeez."

She paused, and then nodded. "A'right, Jacky-boy. Point it out. I's had a long day."

"It's right there." He made a vague gesture to the bed and went to pull a set of old blankets from a shelf to set up a pallet on the floor. "Kloppman'll be in early t' wake us up, so get some shut eye."

"Kloppman?"

"The man that runs this place," he grumbled, situating himself to get comfortable. Thumping his head onto a pillow, he added, "Now get t' sleep."

Happy climbed into Jack's bed and pulled the blankets tightly around her thin shoulders. She rolled onto her side and strained to see him through the darkness. "Jack?" she whispered.

"What?" he muttered with a slightly annoyed tone.

She was silent for a moment, trying to figure out how to word what she wanted to say. "Thanks," she murmured quietly.

He opened his eyes and glanced back towards his bed, slightly baffled. What was she thanking him for? Shrugging, he rolled onto his stomach and fell asleep.

* * *

"Wake up, ya bums!" came a shout.

Happy jerked awake with a startled shriek. And for the first time, Kloppman didn't have to work towards waking up the boys: Happy's scream did the job quite efficiently. Thumps of several boys falling out of their beds resounded around the room, and a highly feminine shriek of "There's a _girl_ in here!" echoed from the mouth of a very unfeminine figure.

Jack sat up, laughing hysterically at the boy who was standing on his bed, pale as if he had seen a mouse. "What'sa matter, Blink? Ya 'fraid of somethin'?"

"What's a girl doin' in th' lodgin' house?!" he yelled. "She ain't s'posed t' be here!"

Happy climbed to a stand, looking the boy in the eye. "Gotta problem wit' me bein' here, Cyclops?" She glanced at him from head to foot. "By th' way, nice underwear." Then she turned and sauntered away, heading for the bathroom.

Kid Blink looked down at his clothing, or lack-thereof, and turned a brilliant shade of red. Storming over to Jack, he said, thrusting his finger back towards the bathroom, "She can't stay here."

"Aw, you's jus' sore 'cause she caught ya wit' ya pants down..." He snickered. "Literally."

"Kloppman ain't gonna allow it."

"Kloppman's th' one that let 'er in," Jack pointed out.

"Impossible," he sneered. "He wouldn't let a girl in here. He _don't_. I know for a fact."

He shrugged, leaning against the wall. "Talk to _him_ about it then."

The room was filled with two screams and Racetrack Higgins came barreling past the two of them, shielding his head, and shouting apologies to a very angry Happy, who was hot on his trail, launching bars of soap and other such projectiles at him.

"Ya dirty scabber! Wait'll I get my hands on ya! You's gonna be in so much pain!"

"I said I's sorry!" he yelled, throwing himself across one of the bunks. He lunged to the right, but halted when Happy did the same. So he moved to the left, but she mimicked the move again. This repeated itself once or twice more when, finally frustrated, she climbed over the bed, and over one of the newsboys as well. Race yelped and ran across the bunkroom. Feeling the need to intervene, after getting in his laughs, of course, Jack stuck out an arm and caught Happy around the waist, almost knocking her off of her feet from the momentum.

"Lemme go!" she yelled, kicking wildly when he lifted her off her feet. "I's gonna soak ya so bad! I said lemme go!"

"Not 'til ya calm down."

"Oh I's gonna calm down, th' second I get my hands on that- that _scab_!"

"It was an accident!" Race yelled from his hiding place behind his bunk. "How was I s'posed t' know a _girl_'d be in there, huh?"

Jack glanced at him. "Didn'cha hear Blink yellin' 'bout a girl in the bunkroom?"

"Naw, ya know I never listen t' him. He's always yellin' about girls." After a moment, he asked, "Anyway, what's a girl doin' in here?"

"I's gonna be a newsie," Happy replied, tired of fighting against Jack, who had her firmly held in place anyway. "An' ya man let me in las' night. Now will ya put me down?"

Jack set her to her feet and turned to his fellow newsboys. "Fellas, this here's Happy. Don' ask me why she's stayin' wit' us, 'cause I don't know." He gestured about the room. "Happy, this is the fellas. Skittery, you jus' climbed over him... and Itey, and Swifty... The one ya was chasin' was Race, Mush, Jake, Kid Blink, Boots..." He went on to introduce the rest of them, and then herded everyone out the door to the church for breakfast.

Kid Blink lingered behind for a moment and found Kloppman busy sweeping his floors. Hopping onto the desk, he said, "Kloppman, ya know the new kid is a girl?"

He shrugged. "Jus' found that out today. But yes, now I know."

He squinted at him with his good eye. "An' you's jus' gonna let 'er stay?"

"Why not? So long as you boys don't try anything with her."

"But you's always gettin' on _my_ case about havin' girls here. Ain't ya bein' a little... what's the word?"

"Hypocritical?"

He thought for a moment and then nodded. "Sounds about right."

"An' if I _am_ bein' hypocritical?"

"Then I think I can bring girls here."

Kloppman shook his head, chuckling. "As always, I'm tellin' ya no, Blink. Now get to sellin' your papers an' whatever else ya do in the mornin'."

With a sigh, Kid Blink trotted after his friends, mulling all the while about how unfair the old man was being.

After breakfast, and a rather heated argument between Happy and Jack about the idea of girl newsies, the entire group eventually made it, in small groups, to the distribution office. "Ya got any money?" Jack finally grumbled to the silent stalking girl beside him.

Shooting him an icy glare, she replied thinly, "Ten cents."

"That'll get ya twenty papes- good for ya first time out." He took Happy's arm and roughly dragged her after him to the office window. "The usual, Weasel me boy," he announced, rather saucily.

The man behind the window rolled his eyes, and yelled back, "Hundred papes!" He handed the newsboy his papers and then looked in surprise at the girl who approached next. "'Scuse me, little lady, but the fact'ry's down th' block."

Happy slammed her dime onto the counter. "Twenty papes."

He burst into laughter. "Hey boys, didja hear that? This girl wants t' sell newspapers!" Looking back at her, he said, "That's good an' funny, girl, but move along. People are tryin' t' get their papers."

"Yeah, well so'm I. I's got money, so jus' hand over the papes," Happy snapped.

"I said move it, missy." He peered over her head and yelled, "_Next_!"

"Hey Weasel, give me girl her papes!"

The man called Weasel arched an eyebrow at Jack. "_She's_ ya girl?'

Jack rolled his eyes. "Give 'er th' papes."

Staring contemptuously at both the girl and boy, he bellowed for twenty newspapers, and shoved them towards her hastily. "_Next_!"

Happy hefted the stack over her shoulder and reluctantly followed Jack onto the street.

"Ever sell papes b'fore, Happy?"

"Nope, but I know how ya do it."

He glanced at her skeptically. "Ya do," he stated, his tone making it evident that he didn't believe a word she said.

"Yup." She closed her eyes, trying to remember the headlines she had seen posted up on the board at the distribution office. Choosing one that came to mind, she played around with the words until she came up with one she felt satisfied with. With that completed, she held a paper over her head and yelled out the new headline. Two well-dressed young men approached and bought a newspaper from her, both eyeing her with interest.

"Thank ya kindly, sirs," she replied cheerfully, tipping her hat towards them as they walked away.

Jack eyed them, coming up beside her. "They only bought from ya 'cause you's a girl, an' they prob'ly found ya attractive. Ya headline could use a little work."

She shrugged. "You's jus' jealous," she said with a smirk, ignoring his comment. Her headlines were the best she could come up with, and at least they were somewhat better than the one's the paper produced. Holding up another newspaper, she belted out another less-than-enticing headline.

He grunted in annoyance when four more buyers- all male, he noted- purchased newspapers from her. Turning away, he went to selling his own newspapers.

By noon, Happy was giddy with excitement and she danced alongside Jack as they headed to Tibby's for lunch. Jack, on the other hand, found himself in a very rancorous mood. Greetings from other newsboys were shouted when the two entered.

"What'sa matter, Cowboy?" Itey inquired around a mouthful of his sandwich wen he noticed Jack's bitter expression.

"Nothin'," he muttered in response.

Arching an eyebrow, he turned to Happy, who looked more... well, _happy_. "How was ya first day sellin'?"

"Oh, great!" She plopped into a chair at his table, and leaned forward on to her elbows eagerly. "I sold all th' papes an' even helped Jack finish sellin' his!"

As his response, Jack groaned and smacked his head onto the table while the others laughed at his expense.

"Can't sell all ya papes so ya gotta have a girl do it for ya?" Race teased, striking a match and lighting a cigar.

He lifted his head and glared at him. "All she sold was t' fellas, an' her headlines's horrible..." He scowled when his friend laughed. "Know what? For th' ev'nin' edition, _you's_ takin' her 'round." He thrust his finger in Race's direction.

His eyes widened and his cigar drooped in the corner of his mouth. "Me an'... an' _her_?"

Happy shrugged with a grin, conveniently ignoring Jack's comments about her selling abilities. As long as her newspapers sold, she wasn't complaining. "Me an' Race, we's good friends, ain't we Race?" To emphasize what she had just stated, she took the cigar from his mouth and clamped it between her teeth, pushing her cap forward over her eyes, and reclining back against her chair, all in a rather smug manner. She followed it up by kicking her heels up onto the table. "Thanks, Race."

Again, chuckles arose as he stared at her in shock. "Hey... hey, that's _my_ cigar!"

She flicked up the edge of her cap with one hand to peer at him and removed the cigar from her mouth with the other, gracing him with a wink. "Aw, I's sure ya don't mind sharin' wit' me, do ya Race?"

"Well I..." At a loss for words, he turned to Jack. "Can we rethink this? I don't think I can sell wit' _her_... She like that _all_ the time?"

Jack laughed, shaking his head as he placed an order with the waitress who had stopped by the table. "Lemme jus' say ya got ya work cut out for ya."

With an indignant shriek, she thumped her feet back to the ground and thrust Race's cigar in Jack's face. "Ya want hard t' handle? Ah, I can _give_ ya hard t' handle!" She grabbed Itey's sandwich from his hand and smashed it into Jack's face. She laughed as the bread slid down his startled face until he grabbed Mush's glass of water and flung the liquid in her face. With an indignant squeal, she grabbed a handful of beans off of Boots' plate and threw them at the Manhattan newsie leader. And the food war began.

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_*Song credits: "Happy Go Lucky" by Steps_


	2. 

****

Chapter 2:

"Well, well, I must say Happy, ya certainly can hold ya own," Race commented as he and Happy headed back to the lodging house later that evening.

She crammed her hands into her pockets, fingering the coins from her evening sale- amazingly enough, fifty cents- and she nodded. "Yup."

"No offense, but Jack was right... ya need work on hawkin' th' headlines." She shrugged. "Anyway... how'd ya learn t' sell by makin' up headlines? Jack says he didn't hafta teach ya nothin'."

"Watchin' all of ya sell ya papes. I figured, after seein' ya get chased ever' now an' then by folks who bought th' papes that you's makin' stuff up."

Race whistled. "Ya musta watched us all th' time." He shuddered, uncertain that he liked knowing people could watch them- watch _him_- without him realizing it.

"Yeah, I used t' work in a fact'ry, so I'd see all of ya through th' window." She brushed a strand of black hair from her eyes and glanced at him. "Ya know, ya ain't so bad for bein' a fella who walks in on half-naked girls."

He made a face. "I told ya, I didn't know... but, ya ain't so bad either, for bein' a saucy, cigar-stealin', bad headline girl." He cracked a grin and dodged the hand she moved to give him a half-hearted swat with.

They continued towards the lodging house, comfortable with the silence between them. When they reached the house, they stopped to sign in and pay for the night's stay. When Race passed the book to Happy, she froze, staring at it dumbly.

"Hey, ya gonna take the pencil or what?... What'sa matter?"

Her face turned a deep crimson and she ducked her head, turning away from him slightly. "I uh... I don't know how t' write."

"Oh, that's all?"

She snapped her head towards him, glaring. "Whad'ya mean, _that's all_?! I's sure _you_ don't have any problem wit' it!"

He shrugged. "It ain't a big deal, not knowin' how t' write. Some of us can only write our names... Mush couldn't read when he first became a newsie. And me, though I _seem_ perfect in every way, I can't spell worth beans."

The corner of Happy's mouth curved ups slightly. Seeing this, Race grinned and took her hand, placing the pencil between her fingers, and held it over the book. Together, they began to write her name. "H... A... P...P...Y... That's how ya spell it, right Kloppman?"

The old man glanced at the scribble and then nodded. He collected their pay and watched with a smile as the two of them raced up the staircase, with Happy's threat "tell anyone about this an' I'll soak ya!" floating back down to him. He chuckled to himself and returned to the back room.

* * *

Happy lay on her back in Kid Blink's bed, staring up into the darkness. She had been very surprised when the boy who had been so adamant against her inclusion to the Manhattan newsies had so readily given up his bed so she could use it. She shook her head, deciding not to ponder it, and moved onto her side, making out the outlines of the sleeping boys in their own bunks. The room was filled with snores, muttered sleep-talk, shifting of weight, and whispers of those not yet asleep. Surprisingly, she fount it all a very comforting medley of noises. With a content sigh, she closed her eyes.

"Happy?"

Startled she opened her eyes again. "What, Race?"

"Sell wit' ya t'morrow, if ya wanna."

She smiled, rolling onto her back again. "Sounds good."

"Shuddup an' go t' sleep a'ready!" Skittery snapped from somewhere else in the room. It fell instantly silent... for about a minute.

"Happy?"

She stifled a giggled. "What now, Race?"

"I's gonna take ya t' Sheepshead Races too."

"'Kay."

"Go to sleep!" Skittery yelled again.

And again, everything fell silent, to stay.

* * *

Happy climbed up onto the railing surrounding the track next to Race and took his cigar from his mouth, clamping it between her lips as she watched the horses thunder down the track.

Race grunted in annoyance. "You's gonna take my cigars ever' day now? Gimme that. It ain't proper for a girl t' be smokin' 'em anyway." He took the cigar back from her.

"Aw, you's no fun." She listened to him groan in frustration as his sure-thing winner of a horse came in third place. "Ya know, we ain't sold hardly any papes yet." She moved her stack onto her lap and thumbed the corners of them absently.

"Jus' one more race," he said, heading to off bet in the next race. "Be right back."

She shrugged. "He's a gamblin' addict." She took the time to glance around the track. All sorts of people roamed the area that day, and she didn't blame them- it was a beautiful morning. Suddenly, she caught sight of a pair of familiar faces bobbing through the crowd. Her eyes widened in panic. Swinging her legs over the fence, she grabbed her newspapers and ducked through the crowd, praying they hadn't seen her. A few minutes later, she was away from the track, and the two faces. Or so she thought.

The two had seen her leave and made it a point to follow.

Race returned to the fence, only to find it empty. "Now where'd she go?"

* * *

Happy dusted her inky hands onto her pants and slipped into the lodging house quietly. Kloppman was busy straightening up his front desk. He looked up in surprise when she entered. "Well, you're back early."

She glanced at him, startled. "Yeah, uh...I finished early."

"Wasn't Race wit' ya?"

"Um, y'know... he got busy, sellin' his own papes an' bettin' on them horses at the races." She turned to head up the stairs and then glanced back at Kloppman. "It's okay I's here... right?"

He smiled. "It's fine."

"A'right... I's gonna go up and relax for a bit..." She turned and ran up the stairs.

A few minutes later, Race burst into the lodging house. "'Ey, Kloppy? Ya seen Happy?"

"She's upstairs. Came in a little bit before you did. Said she finished selling her papers and just wanted to rest."

Race cocked his eyebrow, pursing his lips. "Okay, thanks." Turning, he headed up the stairs. Cautiously, he opened the door to the bunkroom, uncertain if Happy was undressing or not and unwilling to go through another chase around the room. At first, he didn't see the girl, so he stepped further into the room.

"What'cha doin' back so early, Race?"

He turned and saw her, sprawled across a small bed that Kloppman had found for her, with her hands folded behind her head. "I's lookin' for _you_. I got back from bettin', an' suddenly you was gone."

She gave him an apologetic look. "Aw, I forgot... sorry Race. I jus'... jus' had some business t' take care of."

"Well, jus' lemme _know_ th' next time ya decide t' disappear on me. I thought th' Delancey's got a hold of ya or somethin'."

She sat up, her interest piqued. "Delanceys?"

"Ya mean ya don't know... Oscar an' Morris? Dumb and dumber?"

She shook her head.

"Well, all of us newsies had our run-ins wit' 'em... Not long b'fore ya have yours."

"Run-in?... Like... they'd soak me?"

He made an exaggerated motion of uncertainty. "Well, ya know, I... pshh, I don't know... Since you's a girl an' all... but they don't like us, so..."

She folded her hands into her lap, staring at them, intense with thought. "So... ya think they gonna soak me soon?"

He shrugged, plopping into a chair. "Prob'ly."

She lifted her head and looked at him. "Then someone's gotta teach me t' fight."

* * *

"Happy, this's Spot. Spot, Happy. Spot's th' toughest fighter in New York." Jack pulled Happy over and held her out before Spot. "Spot, ya need t' teach Happy t' fight."

"An' if I refuse?" he asked with an arched brow.

"Aw, c'mon Spot, ya ever refused a lady b'fore?"

Both Spot and Happy rolled their eyes.

"Anyway," he continued, "she can be a real handful-" he grinned when she swatted him and made a distinct noise of protest, "so Skitts is gonna help ya."

"I don't need any help, Jack," Spot replied with a snort. "She's jus' a _girl_. How much handful could a girl be?"

"Trust us on this one... ya don't know Happy!" Race piped up, giving her a wink.

She made a face. "I know where ya hide ya cigars, Race!"

"You's worse than Snipes," he grumbled. Snipeshooter muttered an incoherent response under his breath,

Jack sighed. "Hey, Skittery. You an' Spot go start workin' wit' Happy."

"I think Spot can handle 'er" was Skittery's flat response.

"I _said_ think ya should start workin' wit' Happy here. If she can't fight, it'll be ya head."

Skittery rose, rolling his eyes, and followed Spot and Happy out of the lodging house to the alley around the back. Spot turned to Happy. "A'right... ya guess is as good as mine why they asked me t' teach ya t' fight but... Okay, hit me."

"What?"

He shifted his weight and dropped his hands loosely to his sides. "I said hit me."

"Spot, ya sure that's a good idea?" Skittery interjected.

"Shut up Skitts, I know what I's doin'." He gestured to Happy. "Now hit me."

Happy glanced at Skittery uncertainly, and was met with a shrug. She turned back to Spot and hit him, like he had instructed. Or tried to. He dodged the first blow, and the one after that, and the one after that... "How'm I s'posed t' hit ya when ya keep movin'?" she whined, thumping her hands on her hips in aggravation.

"When ya fightin' someone, they ain't jus' gonna stand around an' _let_ ya hit 'em." And then, before Happy even had time to compute what he had said, he had her pinned on the ground, twisting her arm behind her back. "Element of surprise always works," he pointed out, almost cheerfully.

"Mind gettin' off me?" she managed to gasp. Beside them, Skittery smirked at the predicament.

"We got a lot of work t' do."

"Yeah, we do," Spot agreed, climbing to a stand.

Happy grimaced. "Well, gimme a break! I's new at this!" She climbed to her feet, and brushed the gravel off of her clothes, watching the two boys warily.

"Why don't ya try Skitts," Spot said, more of an order than a suggestion.

She glanced at the taller boy and shrugged. "Okay, but I ain't promisin' nothin'." He dodged her first strike, and then the next. She scowled in frustration. "Ya know, I _really_ like th' 'you stand still' business much better..."

"Aw," he taunted, dodging another blow, "but then it'd be too easy on ya. An' ya don't want us coddlin' ya, do ya?"

She made a face. "Ya know, Skittery, ya ain't too nice."

He shrugged indifferently. "Well, not ever'one ya gonna meet'll be nice." She stuck out her tongue childishly, folding her arms, with an indignant 'hmph', over her chest.

He began to tap her shoulders in a rough, gibing way. "C'mon sweetheart, hit me."

"Okay, you did _not_ jus' call me _sweetheart_."

"An' if I did?... Sweetheart."

With a scowl, she lashed out at him. He laughed when she missed. "Can't ya do better than _that_, sweetheart?"

Spot watched their show with an amused smirk. Skittery would taunt Happy, calling her 'sweetheart', and then Happy would try to strike, miss, and Skittery would laugh. And it would repeat. It was a vicious cycle.

"Stop callin' me _sweetheart_!" she yelled, kicking him square between the legs. And finally, Skittery was down for the count.

Spot could barely contain his laughter. "Well, I think ya got _that_ move down, Happy."

She dusted her hands onto her pants. "When all else fails, kick 'em where it counts. My ma taught me that."

"Jus' one thing, Happy," he began.

She gave him a sidelong glance, as Skittery continued to remain curled up on the ground, whimpering. "Yeah?"

"Kick _me_ like that, an' I'll murder ya in ya sleep."

She grinned. "Don't call me sweetheart, an' you'll have nothin' t' worry about."

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	3. 

**Chapter 3:**

            "What th' hell's ya problem, Happy?" Jack shouted, throwing his hands up in the air to vent the frustration that told him to strike the girl.

            "It's called bein' a girl! News flash _Jack: girls and boys are __differ'nt!"_

            "I jus' asked ya a damn question, girl! What's so wrong wit' askin' 'How ya doin', Happy'?"

            "You did _not ask it like that, an' ya __know it!"_

            "Watch out, Jack. She could kick ya like she kicked me," Skittery warned, tossing a bitter glance in Happy's direction.

            The girl shot him a vicious glare. "Shut up, Skitts, jus' _shut up."_

            "As ya wish, _Majesty," he replied sarcastically, giving a mocking half bow._

            Happy rolled her eyes, grabbed the cigar from Race's mouth- as he was sitting silently nearby, trying to avoid the argument- and stalked from the bunkroom.

            "Happy?" Kloppman began, hearing her stomps down the staircase.

            "Not now," she replied, shoving the door open. Spot was on his way into the lodging house, and received a sound smack in the head.

            "Nice t' see ya too, Happy," he muttered, rubbing his bruised forehead a bit.

            "Shut up." She moved past him and headed down the street.

            Back in the bunkroom, Skittery folded his arms over his chest and gave a pointed look towards the furious Manhattan leader. "Told ya she was a royal pain in th' neck."

            "I a'ready knew _that!"_

            "This's what we get for lettin' a girl stay here," Kid Blink scowled.

            Spot came into the bunkroom moments later. "What was _her problem?" He rubbed his aching head a bit and waited impatiently for someone to fill him in._

            Race looked at the others after Jack had explained what had happened and everyone had made their respective comments. "She ain't all that bad. Ever'one has their off days."

            "She's okay, even though she steals ya cigars?" Snipeshooter demanded.

            He shrugged. "_You do. Sure, it's annoyin', but she really ain't that bad. Jus' give 'er a chance-"_

            "Shut up!" came a loud, simultaneous shout from everyone in the room.

            Pulling another cigar from his vest, he muttered to himself, "Fella can't even have an _opinion these days" as he lit up._

* * *

            "_Men," Happy huffed. "Those morons think they's th' __kings of th' world!"_

            "Well, well, well, looky here Oscar. A lost little newsy. An' a girl, at that," a voice commented behind her. "What d'ya think we should do?"

            "I dunno, Morris. I think we should get t' know 'er a little better, what d'ya think?" another voice replied.

            Happy turned with a stony expression on her face of one not to be trifled with. "Ya wouldn't happen t' be th' Delancey's I've heard about so often, wouldja?"

            One of the boys nudged the other. "Well, what d'ya know, Morris. She knows us already."

            Her dark eyes narrowed. "I am _not in a good mood t'day. So ya might wanna beat it, if ya know what's good for ya."_

            "Oh I would, huh?" asked the one called Morris. "_I thinks ya should jus' behave, an' we won't hurt ya __too bad." He and his brother cornered her into an alley. Her response, nothing more than a cool stare, baffled the two brothers a bit. Why wasn't she screaming for help from that bastard, Cowboy?_

            "I'm warnin' ya again: ya don't wanna mess wit' me t'day."

            "Oh, we'll see about _that!" Both Delanceys lunged at her with vicious intents in mind. A few seconds and two well-placed kicks later, they were on the ground, moaning in agony._

            She glanced at them indifferently. "I _told ya not t' mess wit' me." Then she turned and walked away. After a while of venting her anger through brisk walking, she sat down on the curb and watched others pass her by._

            "You're the new girl, aren't you? Happy, right?" Happy glanced up from her spot on the ground to see a slim, unfamiliar young man with a head of curly brown hair standing next to her with a stack of books under his arm.

            She arched an eyebrow as he sat down next to her with a content sigh. "Who're _you_?"

            "David. David Jacobs." After a pause, he spat into his hand and held it out to her.

            Cautiously, she took it. "How do ya know who I am?"

            "The newsies are friends of mine. I used to be one-"

            "Used to?" She glanced at the books in his hands.

            "My father had been injured in a factory accident, so my younger brother and I went to work as newsies until he was able to return. I promised that once he was better, I'd go back to school so..." He gestured absently to his books. "Back in school, I am."

            "I guess they talk 'bout me a lot, 'eh?" she muttered, resting her chin onto her arms folded over her knees.

            "Well, I guess so. Jack really should be called the Walking Mouth. All he does is gossip."

            She glanced at him and laughed. "That's true... So, _you's_ th' infamous Walkin' Mouth, hmm?" she asked, fitting the pieces of the snippets of various stories she had heard together.

            He groaned, leaning his head back. "I see they've already told you about me."

            "Oh sure. They gots great stories 'bout ya." She graced him with a grin when he shook his head with a sigh.

            "Well, let me give you a word of advice: Don't listen to a thing they say about me... unless it's good, of course."

            She laughed again. "Okay, that I'll do. Ya know, ya ain't as bad as I thought ya'd be."

            "I'll take that as a compliment. You aren't as bad as Jack makes you out to be."

            She arched an eyebrow, interested in this new bit of knowledge. "Oh, he thinks I'm bad, eh?"

            "Yeah, well he told me about some episode involving kicking Skittery..."

            She shrugged, with a grin. "Hey, don't call me Sweetheart, an' we'll get along jus' great."

            David smiled, with an absent nod. "I'll store that away." Then he climbed to a stand. "I'm heading to the lodging house. Do you want to come?"

            She nodded, and rose to follow him. "How'd ya know who I was, anyway? By sight, I mean."

            "Like I said, Jack talks too much. Besides, your clothes give it all away. Those are Mush's, aren't they?"

            Happy looked down at her pants and shrugged. "Ya guess is as good as mine." She shoved her hands into her pockets, shuffling alongside David, and kept up light conversation.

            Entering the lodging house, they greeted Kloppman pleasantly and headed up the stairs. Slamming open the door, Happy stepped into the bunkroom, yelling cheerfully, "I'm back! Any of ya miss me?" Her question was met with a few snorts. She shrugged, stepping further into the room. "Aw, well, I love ya too... Anyway, look who followed me home." David walked past her and was greeted heartily by the newsboys.

            "Davey! Good t' see ya!" Jack crowed, grabbing the boy's arm and pulling him in the direction he had come. "Happy ain't messin' wit' ya, is she? Ya all in one piece? She was pretty mad earlier t'day."

            Happy rolled her eyes, climbing onto her bed. "He's fine, Jack. Ya don't think I'd hurt a fella who'd give me good information on ya, now do ya?"

            Every pair of eyes drifted towards David suspiciously. He made a startled face, holding up his hands, defending himself before they had a chance to accuse him of anything. The girl newsy giggled, deliciously pleased with the unintentional havoc she created.

            "Is there somethin' ya wanna share wit' us, Happy?" Race inquired, absently sticking the end of a pencil in his mouth, then spitting it out in realization that it wasn't his cigar, and that the girl in question had been the one who took it.

            She gave him her most innocent glance, the sort that read 'who, _me_?' He snorted at her attempt of innocence and turned to start up a conversation with Specs. Happy let her gaze drift across the room, and she found Skittery watching her with the utmost irritated eye. '_Well_,' she considered, toying with the end of her braid as she humorously watched the intense questioning David was given, '_can't please everyone Hell, ya can't really please _any_ of these fellas_.' With a sigh, she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, creating around her an air that screamed 'do not disturb'.


End file.
